Court of Rogues

by Ann Gimpel

  “Like Witches,” she said dryly.

  I nodded. “Exactly like that. Shifters too. It was wrong. I always knew as much, but I never lifted a finger to stop the dark jokes about mages we considered inferior. I’m not sure when the poison spread to anyone who wasn’t Fae.”

  “Can’t go back,” she said and added, “Could you have tapped into his mind?”

  “Yes, but not as quickly or efficiently as you did.” I considered the implications of what I’d just found out. “The court just became worthless.”

  “Not worthless. It needs new delegates, though.”

  “Seems like a low priority. For now, I won’t call it into session. Better no court than one riddled by blackguards and rogues.”

  “Does it hold regular meetings?” She glanced up, catching my gaze with hers.

  “Sure, around the four major festivals. The next one coming up is Lughnasa, but it’s not for a few weeks.”

  “Good to have time.” She let go of me and added, “What’s next?”

  Bitter laughter wanted out. I kept it contained. “Looking for strangers fomenting riots in Faery misses the point. My bet is one of the people on that horrendously long list was behind the unicorn’s slaughter.”

  “Speaking of the list, who’s represented on it? Are all of them Fae?”

  “You’d think they should be, but they aren’t. No animals, but plenty of Fae and Sidhe.”

  “What will you do to them?”

  I’d been thinking about it because I had to do something. Not knowing and not doing was one thing. The bitch about knowledge is it requires action. I unclenched my jaw. “I’d like to end every single one of them. Permanently. Except it isn’t practical.”

  “Word will get out.” Dariyah nodded. “People will flee, which isn’t a bad thing, except some of them will continue to create problems, and Faery will stop being a haven.”

  “Newsflash,” I noted sourly. “Sanctuary departed long ago.”

  She closed her teeth over her lower lip. “It didn’t seem that way to me. When I first came here to these rooms, I felt wanted and welcome. Don’t make this worse than it is.”

  “As in, with all this shit, there has to be a pony somewhere?” A corner of my mouth twitched, but smiling wasn’t happening. Aedan’s reluctant revelation had ripped the moorings out from under me.

  “Exactly. Look for ponies. It’s how I’ve survived.”

  “I’ve changed my mind. I’m starting with the court,” I said. “I’m going to call an emergency meeting.”

  “I’m confused. I thought you wanted to steer clear of it.”

  “I wasn’t thinking. The others who sit on the court take their duties seriously. I will interrogate the guilty ones and let the rest of the delegates vote on appropriate action.”

  “It won’t be easy to prove their complicity,” Dariyah warned.

  “Might be simpler than you assume. Truth spells have their uses. Particularly once I lead out with what we did to Aedan.”

  “I will be there, but warded. No reason to reveal myself unless something unexpected happens.”

  I placed an arm around her shoulders and squeezed before letting go. She’d just saved me an awkward moment. I wanted her by my side. She belonged there, but if she stood next to me, the focus would fall on her, not on the treachery I was committed to uncovering. Witches in Faery weren’t unheard of, but one had never been included in a court event. It was part of the problem, of the xenophobia turning Faery rotten to her roots.

  Now that my eyes had been pried open, I understood the dilemma all too clearly. Faery provided a refuge for all mages, regardless of persuasion. It was how she’d been designed. Oberon had accepted the precept for many years. I couldn’t pin down when he’d changed, but he had.

  “Oberon wasn’t always a dick?” A corner of Dariyah’s mouth turned downward.

  I did smile then. “Guess I need to get used to you being in my head.”

  She gave an awkward little shrug. “Sorry. Old habits and all that.”

  “It’s all right.”

  “Truly?”

  I nodded, but didn’t add how much I welcomed her nearness. Like as not, she already knew. “Oberon always had dickish tendencies, but he used to be fair. We’d joke about Titania keeping him on track.”

  “But she’s gone, right?”

  “Right. Welcome to problem number three hundred.”

  “It’s not as bad as all that. We’ll knock ’em down one at a time.”

  As far as I looked, all I saw was conflict stretching around me, but I’d moved from making excuses to a let’s-kick-some-ass mindset. Raising my mind voice, I pinged the eleven court delegates and told them to drop whatever they were engaged in and hustle to the courtroom. I had important news about the vigilantes, news that wouldn’t wait.

  13

  Chapter Thirteen, Dariyah

  My heart went out to Cyn, and for the first time I understood the advantages of not having friends or family. Being a loner meant no one disappointed me. I’d seen the pain in his eyes at his cousin’s betrayal. Recognized when he’d pulled himself back from the brink of falling into looking backward and reliving all the good times they’d shared.

  My solitary existence offered cold comfort, but it wasn’t as if I’d had a choice. I stood behind Cynwrigg’s seat in the courtroom, leaning against the wall. My ward should be bulletproof, but I tested it for the fourth time, making sure no chinks of power bled through.

  An interesting assortment of mages and animals ranged around the long table. I was grouping satyrs with animals, but they probably considered themselves more man than goat. The Sidhe had gorgeous fluttery wings. I’d always been slightly disappointed mine had never grown. I’d had small buds in the center of my back, but they’d never turned into anything. Perhaps because they’d been vestigial, they’d withered and dropped away before I hit my twentieth year.

  The court chamber was impressive. A high coved ceiling inset with stained glass depicted a leaping unicorn. Silken wall hangings showed every variety of magical person and beast working side by side. If Oberon had his way, all the artwork would have to go, replaced by Fae-only pieces.

  What had happened to wed him to hegemony? Power corrupts, but surely he could see the value in mixed magics. Even I, outlier that I was, understood differing types of power shored one another up.

  It was the bedrock of my own ability.

  Cyn remained standing as the court hurried in. What he’d told them lit a fire under both innocent and guilty. I took a moment to examine the Fae. Which one was Jess? Had he—or maybe she—been offered a piece of the pie and declined? While it was better than accepting, it still made him complicit in a plot he should have taken straight to Cynwrigg.

  Eh, I shouldn’t be so quick to condemn. Maybe the game plan involved feeling people out. If they didn’t bite on the first offer, which didn’t reveal much, they remained clueless. The more I rolled it around, the likelier it seemed. No one plopped their entire hand on the table right off the bat.

  “Thank you for assembling so quickly,” Cyn was saying. “I value and appreciate your support.”

  It could have been my imagination, but the Fae, sitting grouped together on the right side, seemed to squirm a little. No clues there about who Jess might be.

  “What did you discover, Regent?” The unicorn craned his neck toward Cyn.

  “A number of things,” he replied smoothly. “Let’s start with an expansion of what I told you before about Oberon setting spies to watch me on Earth.”

  A chorus of displeasure ran through the room, peppered with, “That’s horrid,” and “How could he?” One of the Fae shouted. “That’s not new, though. You demanded this meeting because you had new information.”

  “The way I found out,” Cyn went on, ignoring the Fae, “is I apprehended the most recent hire. She was quite candid. No reason not to be. All she was was contract labor. By then, Oberon had fired her.” He blew out a breath. “Apparently, he’s
done this before and developed quite the reputation for being a shyster. He hires mages from a central registry I had no idea existed, collects information on me for a while, and then presents the mage du jour with a deal. They’re to go away quietly for half the agreed upon sum. If they make a stink about it, they get nothing.”

  Stamping hoofs suggested the satyrs and unicorn weren’t surprised. “Very like the old charlatan,” a satyr spoke up.

  “Aye, and he cheats at dice too,” the other one muttered.

  “It is well within his character, isn’t it?” Cyn had never bothered to take his seat. He raised his fair brows as he let his gaze settle on one court member after another. “The next bit of information I ferreted out is that Oberon has muffled Faery so she cannot speak with me. The rift, which is cured, was her way of flagging my attention.”

  Where before a buzz of conversation had rippled through the chamber, it fell by the wayside. Silence reigned.

  “How’d you fix the rift?” a Fae asked.

  “Aye, we’d all like to know. And where is Aedan,” another chimed in.

  “Aedan is a traitor. Unless Oberon horned in and freed him, he is with Faery, who will serve as judge and jury for his sins.” Cyn’s voice was flat. His multihued gaze bored into the Fae who’d asked. He’d led out with information about me, something they already knew, to offer a false sense of security, but it was well on its way out.

  “How’d you come to that conclusion,” the Fae shot back.

  “I tapped into his mind.”

  The Fae looked away, studying something on the wall above my head.

  “What did you find there, in Aedan’s mind?” the unicorn whinnied.

  “We have been set upon from within,” Cyn told the court. “No one new has infiltrated Faery. Oberon couldn’t promulgate his Fae-only vision from inside our lands because over half our population isn’t Fae, so he chose to work another angle.”

  “That’s a cheap shot,” one of the Fae shouted.

  “Aye,” another broke in. “You’re making unfounded assumptions. Most of us are extremely openminded.”

  “Do tell,” Cyn went on smoothly. “Assumptions or no, I believe it’s why Oberon left. Our human visitors may have hastened his egress, but ever since he left, he’s been inciting discontent to forward his vision of a land open only to Fae.”

  “Fuck him,” a satyr snorted. “He tried to do the same when he was still here, but never managed to gain much leverage.”

  Cyn had just said exactly the same thing. He raised his hands. Power flowed from them, heading right for the group of seated Fae. “Approach me,” he ordered.

  Because they hadn’t anticipated he’d snare them in a spell, they lacked warding. Powerless against Cyn’s injunction, they stumbled to their feet and walked toward him, standing in two lines. He added a truth net to compulsion and boomed, “One at a time. When did you pledge fealty to Oberon once he absented himself as monarch?”

  A woman in the back row tossed white hair behind her shoulders. “I turned him down.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Cyn skewered her with his implacable gaze.

  “I thought about it, but it didn’t seem important.” She exhaled noisily. “Faery is a peaceful place. I figured even if Oberon were making an end run, he’d fail because he wasn’t here. Most of my time is spent next to the rivers gathering stones and making charms and jewelry.” She bowed her head. “I failed you, Regent. For that, I am truly sorry.”

  “Return to your seat, Jess,” he told her.

  Once she’d left, he turned to the others. “I’m waiting.”

  “We owe you nothing.” A Fae with cropped black hair rolled his shoulders back.

  Something changed in Cynwrigg. It was like a shell cracking open so something grander could emerge. He narrowed his eyes. “Wrong. You owe me fealty. I am your named regent. As such, I am the living representative of the land you inhabit.”

  The man next to the dark-haired Fae sneered and turned his grey eyes on Cyn. “We remain loyal to Oberon. He is the one linked to Faery. The day is rapidly approaching when he will return and take up his rightful place.”

  “Shut up,” another Fae hissed.

  “Why?” the grey-eyed one countered. “It’s no longer a secret. Pretty-boy up there”—he jerked his chin at Cyn—“finally figured shit out. Took him a while.”

  “Not as dumb as you thought I was, eh?” Anger ran hot beneath Cyn’s words. I didn’t blame him.

  A flash of motion was my only warning before the unicorn executed a stunning leap over the table and cantered the length of the room, stopping behind the small group of Fae. “Which of you cast the magic to kill my Rona?” he roared.

  “Stand down,” Cynwrigg bellowed.

  “No. This is my battle. And it’s personal.” The unicorn didn’t even spare Cyn a passing glance. He jabbed his horn into the nearest Fae back. “Answer me, or I shall kill you all and take joy from it. Nothing can bring Rona back, but the penalty for killing one of my herd is death.”

  Cyn tightened the weave of both truth and compulsion spells. “Answer him. It won’t bother me a whit to turn the lot of you over to the land once he’s finished. She can suck the magic from your bones and spit what’s left into the void.”

  The remaining mages had closed ranks, moving forward and forming a ragged circle around the doomed Fae. What a shit-show. I’d felt bad for Mother, sorry she’d been forced into exile, but if this pathetic bunch of fucks would have been my kinsmen, I was revising my opinion fast.

  With a great show of it-was-hims and he-did-its, sorting truth from fiction was simple. Cyn’s truth net only pinged sweetly for the first Fae to speak. Besides, he was the one doing major finger-pointing at the others.

  “With your leave, Regent.” The unicorn’s horn was jammed against the dark-haired Fae’s back right between his shoulder blades.

  “Noooo. You’re making a mistake,” the Fae moaned. “I’ve been working for you, Cynwrigg, the whole time. A double agent. Aye, that’s it.”

  “Nice try since this is the first I’ve heard about your extraordinary loyalty,” Cyn mocked and nodded at the unicorn.

  Death by unicorn isn’t pretty, but legends hadn’t prepared me for the swiftness of the golden horn. It mowed through the Fae’s body as if there was no internal resistance at all. When it emerged, organs dangled from its tip. With an up-and-down motion, the unicorn shucked whatever had been on his horn, drew back, and pushed more of the Fae’s innards onto the floor. When unicorns killed, they sucked souls in the wake of their carnage. It ensured even the most hardy of immortals remained dead.

  How was the Fae still on his feet? The horn. It had to be the only thing holding the dead-Fae-walking upright. My attention had been fixed on him. I didn’t notice the other four link their magic until the air around them developed a characteristic blur that screamed teleport spell.

  No time to alert Cyn. By the time I did that, the guilty Fae would be long gone. My actions could cost me everything—but only if someone pierced my glamour. Power jetted from my hands as my ward crumpled to the floor. “Stop them,” I shouted and swathed layer upon layer of power around the Fae to unseat their spell.

  “Who are you?” A satyr added magic to mine.

  “A friend,” Cyn shouted at him and added power to the mix. His move might have been instinctive, but I was blown away by how strong we were together. We’d never actually married our skills before. The vortex I’d put in place around the Fae turned from a nip-and-tuck proposition to a barrier that could last the ages. Not that it needed to.

  “Kill them all,” Cyn ordered, his tone flat, devoid of emotion.

  “With pleasure.” The unicorn gored another, and then another. “This is for your part in Rona’s death,” he repeated with each thrust. The coppery bite of blood filled the chamber, along with the stench of spilled entrails. Despite the grisly scene playing out before me, the feel of my magic slotted with Cyn’s was heady.

  Like noth
ing I’d ever felt before, our power was born to be joined. The rightness of it was like a shot between the eyes. Did he feel it too? I had no idea.

  “What manner of Witch holds your level of magic?” the satyr who’d asked who I was challenged me.

  The unicorn had the traitors well in hand. Too bad this batch wouldn’t spell an end to the unrest in Faery, except I knew better. I exchanged a glance with Cynwrigg and dismantled my portion of what had turned into a joint spell. Turning to face the satyr, I said, “One who’s taken care to study.” I stuck out a hand. “Dari here.”

  The satyr aimed his next words at Cyn. “She’s the mage for hire you intercepted.” It wasn’t a question. I had to hand it to him, he was sharp. I’d never known any satyrs before, but if they were all like this one, they were a shrewd lot.

  “She is,” Cyn agreed. “And kind enough to offer her continued assistance because there’s no love lost between her and Oberon.”

  The unicorn stood over the last Fae, flanks heaving and his golden horn covered in blood. He tossed his head back, full mane flying off to one side. “Thank you, Regent. Their deaths will not restore my Rona, but I have avenged her passing.”

  “Give me a moment,” Cyn told the group ranged around the dead Fae. No one had said anything, except for the satyr. Their faces wore grim expressions as they regarded men they’d probably known for centuries, men who’d turned against everything Faery held dear.

  I wanted to say something comforting, but I was an outsider. Nothing I said would mean anything since they’d assume I couldn’t fathom the depth of their loss. It wasn’t so much the dead traitors, but a loss of innocence, of belief in the inherent goodness in their fellows. Both had sustained a blow as fatal as the unicorn’s gorings.

  Loss of innocence was where I lived. If I’d ever had any, it had been snatched from me not long after I’d been born. Cyn motioned to me and I moved to his side. “Work with me,” he said. “We are transporting the bodies to Faery.”

  For the second time in the last half hour, his power clicked into place, riding alongside mine and yielding the same intoxicating rush. He set the coordinates for transport; I packaged the not-quite-corpses. Life still flickered in one Fae. I felt certain Faery would snuff it out. The land had sounded desolate and furious about Oberon’s betrayal when she’d spoken to me.